#then again. the balladeer. the fair lady. tartaglia. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boundinparchment · 1 year

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Deus In Absentia - IX

The first time was a coincidence. The second time was a fluke. But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate. Or, more likely, a calculated trap. Reposted from my previous blog, @/zhonglis-empty-wallet AO3

After the news of Signora’s death, it was no surprise when you were told to head to Sumeru. Tartaglia was dispatched to Inazuma to hunt for clues the Balladeer left behind; Dottore would head to Sumeru to, ideally, cut the Sixth off before he managed to use the Gnosis.

“Anyone at the Akademiya would have a field day helping him,” Dottore grumbled. “Some spend their whole lives never finishing their dissertations. I will not stand for my work being stolen from me.”

His prideful rants fooled many. You knew better.

So did the Tsaritsa.

He didn’t want to go. If he had his way, he would remain in Haeresys and continue investigating the Gnoses they had to find a way to harness their power. Field work of any kind was a waste of time for him, especially now with the Queen and a Rook in their possession.

But when the Tsaritsa laid her pain of the loss of the Fair Lady before her Harbinger’s feet, duty took its place, as it always did.

As it always would.

And you would take yours, at his side. For even you, unblessed and without a Vision, couldn’t stand to see the Tsaritsa shed tears.

______________________

You were used to the land of Cryo, where the air was frigid and dry and sucked the moisture out of everything. Initially, it grew warmer but was initially refreshing. The further south you went, the stickier and heavier the air became, clinging to your skin and hair and clothes. Dottore adapted with little issue; his coat was shoved into the nearest bag, along with his bowtie, and he rolled up his sleeves with great care. You tried not to stare too hard at his exposed neck and clavicle when he eventually undid the upper buttons of his shirt.

He threw a sharp-toothed grin your way when he caught you staring but said nothing. You could tell by the glint in his eye that he took note and was filing the thought away for later. You followed his example, however, and abandoned your top layers, immediately relieved of their heaviness.

You passed through a dense forest first, filled with creatures and plants you’d only ever seen in children’s books. In a different life, if you’d had the means, no doubt you would have come this way to attend the Akademiya yourself. Lush, green, vibrant; everything Sneznhaya wasn’t. Life thrived here, as rich as the knowledge that was collected and consumed.

Mondstadt was pretty but this…

It was everything the land of snow wasn’t. Humidity be damned.

Of course, you’d seen parts of Teyvat first-hand outside of your…predicament (less a predicament now, you amended). But some of it only ever existed in illustrations and in text. The thick underbrush made it difficult to traverse and at first, you couldn’t stand the touch of the leaves on your face and exposed skin. It tickled, uncomfortably so, until you grew used to the sensation when it couldn’t be avoided. Plants were impossible to keep in the harsh climate back home and many of them had needles instead of leaves.

Overhead, wide leaves sheltered you from the sweltering sun. They looked like giant water lily pads, save their large, trunk-like stem that rooted them to the earth beneath your feet. Tentatively, you reached out a hand to touch the greenery and found the stem to be fuzzy but incredibly solid.

“You’re lagging, Archivist!”

Your traveling party, Dottore included, were far ahead of you, almost out of sight. When you caught up with the Harbinger, a hand clamped around your wrist as the two accompanying agents taking point continued on. When you went to take a step forward, Dottore pulled you back, and you cast a questioning look up at him.

“It is easy to become disoriented here, where the trails are far overgrown,” Dottore hissed, his breath hot in your ear. “Do not fall behind again. Leopards love hunting in these parts.”

Was he speaking from experience?

Before you could ask, he pulled away, eyes looking around for a moment before stopping on a place over your shoulder. You swore he was almost concerned but maybe being back in the Land of Knowledge was putting him on edge. The hold on your wrist slackened as he told you to go on ahead and stick with the accompanying agents. He didn’t move until you were almost out of sight, the forest eerily still behind you as you made your way forward, calling for your travel companions to wait up.

You tried not to think about the familiar sound of catalyst shots coming from the path behind you.

______________________

The entire trip was much shorter than expected.

At first, you didn’t understand the lack of secrecy, especially with the pace news of the Fatui was traveling. The visit to Mondstadt had been planned by Krupp, their party expected. Here, they were hunting for someone who didn’t want to be found and yet Dottore made no effort to hide, making scholars who recognized him in any capacity visibly uncomfortable.

A deal, struck beneath the scorching sun; a Gnosis in exchange for the end of political manipulation. A child placed on a throne, subject to the whims of the Sages.

It worked, in the end.

And in the end, the Traveler from the Stars was too late.

You watched from the sidelines as Dottore interrupted a meeting between the Sages, sitting at a raised half-table and forced to look at one another. It was almost Socratic if it wasn’t a cabal of out-of-touch academics with their heads up their asses. They shouted, protested, but it did nothing to stop the Harbinger’s approach, long legs carrying him across the room and up the dais with the same ease at which he controlled Ruin creations.

“You can’t be in here!”

“Who do you think you are?”

The laugh that shattered the cacophony of shouts was blood-curdling.

“What kind of question is that?” Dottore snapped, body heaving from a moment to recover from the cackle. “‘Who do I think I am?’ I’m the one who discovered the truth about our world, Boaz. In a different life, I would be in your seat.”

You couldn’t see much from behind but Dottore’s hand reached up and when it came back down, you saw the outline of his mask. It wasn’t hard to imagine the expression he bore, mouth wide and teeth bared in a mockery of a smile, red eyes wide and gleaming.

“You all mocked me, here, in this very room,” Dottore lectured. “Called me a madman for augmenting humans, for daring to think it possible to surpass godhood, ascend into something greater without a Vision, without Celestia. And yet here you sit, having done the very same. At the pace at which students burn out, I’m surprised this isn’t a factory in Fontaine!”

Protests and appeals to ego failed. The stairs of the dais ran red with blood after several flashes from Dottore’s floating needles.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t the Traveler that arrived first, but the Renegade, bruised and aching from a battle that took too much out of him. You expected more blood to be shed between them, to feel the air crackle with power and the nauseating scent of Mist Grass.

But instead, another bargain. The Gnosis in exchange for a reset. For a second chance. After all, no one outside of the Electro Archon knew Kunikuzushi’s construction and inner workings as well as Dottore. And fighting was an inefficient use of time and power.

“Archivist.”

You’d never been privy to these moments before. And now you served as assistant, staring into bundles of wires and glowing synapses, holding things out of the way and adjusting the handheld light Dottore always kept on him.

When the light from the indigo eyes faded slowly, Dottore sealed the puppet’s chest cavity back up. He scribbled a note and tucked it into the puppet’s hand to be found later, no doubt instructions for whoever found him.

“Two birds, one stone, Archivist. And with time to spare, too. Come, let’s celebrate!”

______________________

Fontaine was less straightforward, more what you came to expect out of the social scene you were privy to. The spectacle of the court was all a farce. You heard the rumors that Fontaine was running out of resources to continue fueling its infrastructure, sending researchers out to find a new viable source or method of extraction. That the land was either a place of great happiness and success or absolute misery and pain that many sought to escape.

It didn’t take a genius to see why. A Celestial Nail hovered over the Courthouse. Inequality and illness was as clear as the air in Mondstadt and as unforgiving as a broken contract in Liyue.

“Judges with no consideration for both sides of the scales often get it wrong,” Dottore glowered during the main event, a masquerade and heist. “She speaks of Justice as though an iron fist solves all.”

He was nursing the same glass of wine all night, his eyes constantly scanning the room. Even with Columbina and Arleccino, this heist might go smoothly now that the Guest of Honor, the Outlander, flitted about the room. With them, a familiar head of red hair. The Ragnivindar Heir was throwing looks at the Harbinger all night but maintaining the air of civility and elegance expected of him.

The partnership between Fatui and Outlander was threadbare, connected only by mutual frustration and interest in seeing the Fontainian people free from Celestia’s possible wrath.

Sumeru brought out painful memories, ones Dottore could laugh off easily enough as trials of youth in pursuit of Truth. But the Land of Justice, with its soaring buildings, whirring machines, and an undercity constantly aflame to keep the upper city running brought out something deeper, something darker still. After all, its very people chased him away, ran him out of what should have been a home, burned his face to mark him, should he ever return. Chances were, some of those people were in this very room.

You laid a hand on his arm, breaking his concentration on Columbina bowing before the Archon, promising the show of a lifetime.

Ruby eyes looked down at you, malice and vengeful pride fading as if seeing you properly for the first time that night. He’d gushed over the outfit Columbina painstakingly assembled for you earlier but that had been appeasement to the other Harbinger, a show of goodwill and bravado. In your opinion, the Little Dove did a marvelous job in making you feel a part of the show, rather than a member of the chorus that hovered in the wings. But now, in the relative privacy of the darker corners of the ballroom, Dottore’s free hand traced the ruffles and fine silks, dancing along the seams along your side. You weren’t sure if he was admiring the quality or studying its construction in order to undo it all once everything here was complete.

“You’ve done nothing but glower from the corner all evening,” you teased. “It seems a shame to waste this once-in-a-lifetime evening, Lord Harbinger, by sitting in the shadows.”

“It’s not so dark here, not with you. But I suppose you’re right. It would be a shame to waste such magnificence by keeping it all to myself.”

The music swelled again, indicating the lull for food and drink was over, and Dottore swept you into the crowd on the ballroom floor. At first, you unconsciously attempted to lead, which resulted in the Harbinger pressing you closer, or as close as the dance allowed without restricting movement for either of you. You stumbled over your feet for a moment, narrowly managing to avoid stepping on your partner’s shoes.

“Relax, Archivist.”

Easy for him to say. You’d merely be joking, you hadn’t expected him to actually bring you both into the spotlight. He never danced at other events you attended together; Dottore offered conversation as an alternative but you never figured out whether it was because he needed the stimulation or if he was possibly a poor dance partner.

It certainly wasn’t the latter. As far as you could tell, every step was on beat, every turn with the flourish of notes right on cue.

The Harbinger gave your hands a shake when your fingers tightened, his other hand roaming from your shoulder blades to your waist. When he whispered your name, you loosened your grip a little, and let the subtle cues such as the press against your waist or slight pull of your arm guide you.

“Much better. Music is nothing but an assembly of notes and instruments working in tandem, a machine with a predictable pattern. Dancing is merely an extension of it; constructs matching the pattern, in sync with one another first and foremost.”

Eyes fell upon you for the rest of the night, curious whispers escaping the lips of strangers about the Doctor’s fascinating companion. It was the opposite of what you’d wanted, the opposite of his usual treatment of these events. You admitted, however, that it was nice to feel acknowledged in a more open space, even if the truth was only known to both of you.

The Archon had been so lost in her Judgment of those in her presence that she’d completely overlooked that four visitors were nowhere to be seen.

It didn’t take long, however, for sheer coincidence to do its job. A furnace in a crowded factory exploded, its attendant exhausted and overworked, accidentally increasing the fuel intake far beyond capacity. Nearby facilities were quick to light, one after another. The entire Undercity, burning, while the rich and powerful danced above. By the time the festivities were ending, the Archon had little time or attention to spare on whether her Gnosis was in her possession any longer.

Escaping hadn’t been easy, between the smoke and debris and chaos. You were one of the only ones unable to fight your way through, stuck relying on the protection of others. The entire party was dressed in singed finery but easy targets for those capitalizing on the panic. During a lull, Dottore plucked the Gnosis from the Traveler’s hand and said this was where they parted ways. His laugh was almost drowned out by the roar of the flames around them when the Traveler asked about the people of Fontaine, those who could still be saved. With a graceful flourish, he removed his mask, his grin widening as the Traveler’s eyes drank in his true visage.

“They burned me, Traveler! Called me a heretic, a monster! Burned my face and drove me out of my home! You’re a fool if you think these pathetic excuses for people need or even deserve to be saved. Let them burn!”

The fight was beyond anything you’d seen before, even in the arena of Haeresys. At first, it was merely catalyst versus sword, nothing remarkable. But the Traveler wouldn’t relent, leaving the Harbinger no choice but to use more of his Anemo Delusion, summoning stray pieces of nearby machinery and assembling several Ruin guards at once. Although he continued to taunt and laugh as the Traveler and their companions attempted to control the situation, you could see that the power draw took a quick toll; his posture wasn’t as rigid, his reaction time just a bit too slow.

The Ruin machines were enough of a distraction, though. While they were occupied, Dottore bid them adieu and before you knew it, you were leaving the smoke-filled streets behind. The Delusion’s power took more out of him than he let on, the Harbinger stopping when you were finally high enough and away from the city proper to let out a series of choking coughs. You pretended not to see the specs of fresh blood that made their way onto his gloves, and the trickle that continued out of the corner of his mouth. He didn’t move right away, breathing once, and then twice, silently assessing his body. Dottore took a step, another, and you managed to curl your body under his arm and catch him in time before his knees met the earth. It took everything in you not to buckle beneath his deadweight, his body no longer yielding to him, pushed to the point of exhaustion.

“Damn this prison of flesh,” he muttered, so low you almost missed it. Louder, he said, “This view, Archivist, is worth every painful breath. Now if only it would climb higher still and take that damn Nail with it.”

Your last memory of the beautiful city was nothing more than an orange glow and a collection of burning spires.

______________________

As soon as you both returned to Sneznhaya, Dottore handed over the Hydro Gnosis and then locked himself in his lab, demanding not to be disturbed.

By doing so, however, he locked the other assistants, including you, out. You tried not to take it personally but usually he simply shuttered himself away in his study instead. He hated inefficiency, disrupting a workflow that was making progress. By sealing everyone else out, he was halting other projects. You very well couldn’t do your work from the corridors.

To say nothing of the chasm that the sealed door left in your heart. Of all people, not even you, were allowed inside? Without even so much as an explanation? Scaramouche’s words came back, flitting around in your mind. You shouldn’t make the mistake of thinking there is room in his heart; he doesn’t have one.

He wouldn’t see you. Day after day, you waited, sometimes pounded on the steel doors. But they wouldn’t open. Rumors of an impending fight with Celestia and the wayward Traveler circulated for weeks as you tried to at least keep on top of more current events. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that perhaps there was more than a grain of truth in them when active Fatui recruits were drilling more than usual and the once-grand corridors and foyers of the Palace were stocked with supplies and weapons.

It wasn’t until the Tsaritsa herself, accompanied by Pierro, that the doors yielded, allowing two more to pass through once, and then again hours later, that the gravity of the situation finally solidified. The Archon Herself would demand her Harbingers come to Her, not the other way around. When she returned to the surface, you found yourself looking into eyes the color of freshly fallen snow in the morning sun, tinged with the faintest hint of blue, before averting your gaze respectfully.

You did not expect the Tsaritsa to clasp one of your hands in hers and then cup your cheek, her hands frigid but soft and tender. Comforting in their lack of warmth.

“The events to come will test us all, Archivist. Take care of my doctor, won’t you? He is hardly the same without your presence.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” you replied.

You descended down into Haeresys as soon as the Tsaritsa was out of sight, your cheek still stinging from her touch, as if frost-nipped. When you reached the lab proper, you were presented with the familiar sight of Dottore’s back, the shift of his shoulders indicating that he was working on something in front of him.

“Lord Harbinger?”

He stilled in his actions, lifting his head slowly before turning part-way.

“Archivist. They were evacuating civilian Fatui members. You shouldn’t be here.”

Dottore turned back to his workbench but you didn’t move. He continued to tinker, as if ignoring your presence was going to somehow make you disappear.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Archivist. You are not needed.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

A slam echoed in the cavernous space as Dottore threw down his tool and then adjusted something quickly before turning to face you entirely. His entire left forearm and hand, once bone, sinew, and flesh, was nothing more than steel and rivets and hinges. Your eyes followed the arm up, to his shoulder, where metal met flesh, and although he was dressed, the fabric fell differently than it used to on one of his legs and across his chest. Squinting, you noticed a seam around his jaw, just hidden by his mask. The usual corner of his mouth was still skin, his eyes were still clearly those of a human.

Had he…spent all of these weeks…augmenting himself?

“I have built a god with my own two hands, Archivist. I have no need for anyone else. And I will be damned if everything is ripped from me now, if I failed. Fontaine was a testament to just how imperfect I am. And perfection is a necessity for victory. I couldn’t let Nasha Tsaritsa see me like that…couldn’t let you see me so weak, so useless.”

“Why would I ever see you as such?” you asked. “You’ve never been weak, not to me. Hasn’t that been abundantly clear this entire time?”

How could someone who dared to question the status quo not once but several times and dedicate his entire existence to proving it be weak? When everything was stacked against him, he kept going, whatever the cost…

Whatever the cost. Even if it meant his humanity. Your eyes stung with unshed tears, threatening to spill not out of disappointment but pain. What kind of place had he been in to do this…and what kind of pain did he experience making it happen?

Dottore approached you, eyes trained on your face, his hands behind his back. “You’ve always been so loyal, Archivist. So dutiful despite our…”

Something heavy and cold pressed against your chin, lifting your head. You vaguely felt the shape of the wrench, recognized the handle through blurry vision.

“…initial misunderstanding. One of the best assistants I’ve ever had. Proof that not all humans are disappointing, that perhaps one such as myself may find solace and peace that quiets my mind, if only temporarily. I know you almost as well as I know myself. Which means that, if I asked something of you, I have no doubt what your answer would be.”

“That would depend.”

Whatever conviction your words held died when your voice wavered.

“Your self-preservation would demand it, if your metaphorical heart did not,” he added your name at the end as the wrench fell away. “But I wouldn’t expect you to make anything less than an informed decision.”

He placed the tool on the workbench with a clatter and pressed his palms to the surface, his back towards you. The light from flickering lamps nearby cast dancing shadows about the room, tendrils flickering and distorting against the stone. His earring cast a light of its own, aquamarine illuminating his profile as he turned his head over his shoulder to speak.

“Will you fight? Will you serve Nasha Tsaritsa and stand with me against the tyranny of Celestia?”

You were never good at combat. You’d kept a Fontaine-made pistol at your shop under the counter for safe-keeping and took the courses on how to use it, but you’d never had to. And whenever you’d gone out in the field, it was never in a capacity to fight. If you’d been a proper recruit, at least you’d have a foundation and understanding of weaponry.

“You know the price of a Delusion, Archivist. But you also know the price of letting Celestia win. Which will it be?”

You thought of Khaenri’ah, of Enkanomiya, of Dragonspine, of Fontaine. Of Celestial Nails and the destruction of everything you knew. Sneznhaya…no, every nation, would be nothing more than a remnant, a footnote in history. People who tried and failed and others who never had a chance. If you didn’t fight, if you didn’t try, then what was the point of the previous months of work? At least if you fought, you had a chance at survival.

A chance at life, anew. Be it here or somewhere else in Teyvat.

Maybe you would even get to see the real sky, real stars, see the universes beyond the Veil…perhaps with…

You slowly, cautiously, closed the distance between the both of you. You pressed a hand to his back, feeling strong shoulder muscles as you wrapped your other arm around him, metal plates rather than the usual warmth of skin around his front. For a moment, his breath hitched, the smallest pause in what was probably no longer a biological need. But still, a mark that perhaps he was still not entirely lost.

“I am yours, Lord Harbinger. And I will fight by your side.”

#fic: deus in absentia #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore x gender neutral reader #il dottore x gender neutral reader

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candiedsour · 3 years

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How Genshin Impact Characters would react to someone flirting with you || (Fatui)

Hey hey hey, it's the author and I'm back at it again (o´∀`o) I have lowkey zero inspiration these days so feel free to do reqs (^_^)/~~. Or just give me some ideas.¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Either one works really. I just wanna write but I have zero ideas ╥﹏╥ which is probably why this one has a lower quality than the others (´。＿。｀)

-E

Childe ❌🥢

His aura would probably scare off the person even before he gets to talk to them

Even a drunk person knows not to mess with him so you're fine as long as he's there

You two being apart is very unlikely, since you go on missions together so you barely have to fend off creeps

"Hey buddy, whatchu got there." A smooth voice says as the person creepes behind the figure in front of you.

The man froze in place. It look as if he had been caught by the Millelith for stealing from the golden house.

Childe slung his hands over his shoulder.

"Cat got your tongue? I'm pretty sure you were talking to my partner perfectly fine before I got here. Go on, say something. Weren't you just saying that them being in a relationship doesn't matter?" He mocked him.

You were positive you just saw the man grew a few shades paler. He looked as if he were just about to pass out.

The man who had been previously didn't even try to talk back. He just pushed Tartaglia's arm from his shoulder and ran for it.

"Aw, he already ran. I didn't even get to ask him his name this time. Do you think I should chase him down?"

Scaramouche ⛓💜

He'd probably give the person a death-glare. Though, if it weren't for the atmosphere surrounding him you'd probably laugh at the fact that he's glaring at someone 2 inches taller than him

He would also get made fun of his height by whoever flirting with you

Since he prefers not causing a scene in public, he'd send fatui agents after the person after a few days to not raise suspicion.

You could feel the temperature drop around you as you felt someone walk up to the counter you were at.

"Y/n I have been looking for you. Though, I would certainly not have guessed to see you at a lowly bar like this had Childe not let it slip your location." You heard the voice of the infamous Balladeer from behind you.

"So this is your boyfriend? He looks like a child. You could do so much better like me- for example. "

If looks could kill, the bartender would have probably be buried underground by now.

"We do not have time to chat with lowlifes y/n. I doubt that I need to tell you this but it seems like you had your priorities mixed up for a while. " He stated.

You know knew better than to argue with him in so you just followed him back to the palace.

"Menaces like him should be fed to Abyssal beasts. It was a shame that we were in public. Otherwise I'd have dealt with him myself."

La Signora 💋💅

The person flirting would you would probably switch from flirting with your own flirting with her and honestly? You can't even complain

You'd get jealous though, so she'd kick him whoever flirting with her in the face

People rarely flirt with you when you're together, they'd just try to hit on her instead

"My lady, I highly doubt that whoever is your partner can offer more than me. " He said as he kissed the back of your hand.

You mentally cringe as you felt his lips touch your hand. You wanted to wash it then and there but alas.

Such behavior in the court of the Tsarista would be a disgrace.

You were frozen on the spot when you felt someone from behind.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't touch my lover. " You heard a smooth voice.

You turned your head to look back and sure enough, there was La Signora in her signature mask and dress.

"Oh of course, excuse my actions. Would you be willing to share a cup of wine with me by any chance? Fair Lady." He offered.

La Signora could barely hold back her sneer.

She hated people like that. Switching up once they see a better offer and having no devotion to a cause whatsoever.

"I'll have to decline." She stated.

"Ah, I deeply apologise. It seems as if I have forgotten my manners. Please call me ----. I am a merchant invited over for the supply of the feast. " He rambled on and on about himself.

You took this opportunity to grab Signora's hands and disappear back into the hall.

"And you are?"

Once he opened his eyes he realised, he had been talking to no one this whole time and had been collecting some judgemental stares from people.

"I cannot believe someone like him even got into this Gala in the first place, these parties should be restricted to the more... sophisticated part of society. "

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